


a simple kind of life

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Friendly, Drinking, F/M, Framework, Jealousy, Male-Female Friendship, Past Relationship(s), Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Musings post 4x16.  Canon friendly.





	

"I'm sorry, have we met before?"

"No," he answers, thinking he must look like a fool standing outside of the stage exit in the alley. Waiting.

Dressed in an ill-fitting suit while his glasses start to fog from the weather.

The rain gathers on the bridge of his nose and drips off the end, as he wipes it away nervously.

She gives him a conciliatory smile and then quickly takes the umbrella from under her arm and pops it open.

"That's the thing," he starts again, when she goes to reach for her instrument case. "We don't have to know each other to meet for the first time?"

Pausing, she looks down the alley towards the street, where her car is.

"You were waiting for me," she says quietly, narrowing her eyes. "Weren't you?"

"Yes," he admits, after a moment, taking his glasses off to wipe them clear. "I saw you play."

He watched her play and remembered things that he's not supposed to remember. Of another life.

"And?" she shrugs, moving nervously, staring back down the alley again, like she wants to be somewhere else.

This isn't why he came here. To make her afraid. He's been afraid his whole life.

It's just...these memories seem so simple. Uncomplicated. Not like the other ones.

"Do I seem familiar to you? At all?" he asks, searching her face. Trying to hide his desperation, lean into the idea that the connection that they had once is real.

She opens her mouth, and he thinks that maybe this will be the moment.

"Marcus," she says with a little breath of relief, and a smile, looking past his shoulder.

He turns and sees a face. One that he's only just remembered, but that he's known for longer than that.

"Hey," the man says to her, and then stares at him, as he pushes past him up the small stairs, and lifts her cello case. "Who's this?"

Everyone knows a HYDRA agent when they see one. Even when they're off duty.

"I don't know, actually," she tells him, then glances back down the stairs.

He looks away from them, back towards the street and puts his hands on his hips.

"I'm sorry. I mistook you for someone else," he apologizes, putting his glasses back on, stepping out of the way as they both walk down the stairs together.

His eyes drift upward as they head together towards the company car parked at the curb.

She doesn't look back.

  
+++

  
"Guess you felt like running."

"Don't-" he says, half-startled, finding her in the foyer of his house when he returns later that evening.

"Sorry," she offers with a shrug. "I need to stay out of sight."

He drops the keys on the tray near the door and locks it behind him, shrugs out of his wet jacket.

"A suit," she says with a thin smile, like she's wrestling with another familiarity. "Guess you're starting to remember things."

"Yeah, I am," he says sharply, and pushes past her down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she calls after him, following, watching him take a beer out of the fridge and pop the top open.

"Okay?" he asks with a bitter laugh, and then takes a long drink. "What about any of this is okay?"

"It's not. That's why I was asking," she sighs, while her eyes dart around the room like she's taking in all of the details.

"I am most definitely not okay," he adds impatiently and opens up the fridge, gestures towards it with his hand. "Beer?"

"Oh, no thanks-"

"Or, did you already help yourself?" he goes on, shutting the door.

"I should probably go," she nods, and starts to back away.

He shuts his eyes and lets out a frustrated breath. "Daisy. I'm sorry. I know that you're stuck here. And I know I'm not what you expected."

She stares back at him warily, but then relaxes and walks around to the fridge and opens it up.

Taking out a beer she opens it and looks at the label curiously, but takes a drink anyway.

"Even my beer isn't good enough," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"It's pretty bad," she tells him after taking a swig, pursing her lips and setting it down on the counter. "Not that I was expecting good beer on this side of-"

"Why did they do this?" he interrupts. "They could've given me something else. To keep me...happy? This is..."

"Empty," she finishes.

He tears his eyes from their intense stare, and looks around at his parents' house, now his, and takes in the details, just as she did moments earlier.

"Familiar, but, it doesn't have-"

"It's meant to make you afraid," she tells him, again. She's told him this already, but he wasn't certain. "The person who put you in here is someone that can't feel, or love, or-"

"I wanted things to be simple," he admits, staring at the floor tiles. That he picked out when he renovated it years ago. "I mean, I used to want things to be simple, and I forgot."

"Forgot what?" Her voice has gone quieter, and she's leaning in closer, waiting.

For him.

And despite all of the confusion, his head being twisted inside out, it feels like something real for him to hold onto.

"That it wasn't real?" He looks up and sees her eyes on his, still, and he knows this. He's certain of it.

Her eyes get wider, and he probably does seem desperate, pathetic, even. But not afraid.

"Did you try to find someone?" she asks carefully.

He appreciates that. Because she has no reason to be that he can think of.

"Yes," he nods. "Audrey."

"Coulson, I'm so sorry." She touches his shoulder again, and he feels guilty for wanting more. Wishing she would wrap her arms around him and hug him. "This place, it doesn't-"

"I realize that now. I had hoped to run away, to be honest. And she was with him."

"Who?"

"Marcus Daniels."

"Look," she says seriously, visibly incensed. "First of all, she would never. Second," she stares down at her beer. "You have to have something stronger than this?"

"Yeah," he half-smiles." A bottle I saved. From my dad. Before HYDRA took over."

"Saving?" she wonders, as he opens a cabinet and bends down, reaches to knock on the back of it. "For what?"

"For this moment, I guess," he says with a grunt, wrenching the back board loose.

  
+++

 

"You didn't come home last night," he tells her, breaking the silence as they drive their way to headquarters for another debrief.

They're getting more frequent. She has less time to spend with the Resistance.

"And you know that because?" she asks with a curt smile. It's not like they live together.

"Because I was looking out for you," he says sharply, gripping the wheel and then getting clearance to the garage as they're scanned.

Since they've been more involved with the Resistance, he's on edge. Like it was easier for him when he thought she didn't know what was going on.

"Skye," he goes on, as she raises her eyebrows. "Daisy. I'm trying to protect you, but you're making it hard."

"Ward. I already told you," she answers, as he turns into the parking space. "I don't need protecting."

His jaw tenses and this isn't really Ward. It only a version of him Aida created, to make her feel afraid.

Really, she can't wait to get her hands on Aida.

She unbuckles her seatbelt, and he quickly follows suit, heading out after her as she shuts the passenger door and starts walking towards the garage elevator.

"Spending the night at a subversive's house is suspicious, to say the least," he says in a whisper, catching up beside her.

Aida, who only had other people's ideas about Ward to work with. Not hers. She's already done this before. She remembers.

"No one knows that, except for you. Right?" she answers, flippantly.

When he doesn't reply,, she turns on him, making him halt, and puts her back to the cameras so their conversation is blocked from view.

"Hey," he says, leaning in. "I didn't risk all of this so you could blow it for some...loser schoolteacher. Who, by the way, is old enough to be your-"

"He's my friend, and he's been sucked into all of this now. A part of it. I'm just trying to help him-"

"Friend," he smirks. "Like your...zombie friend, Simmons?

"What did you risk it for?" she shrugs, because she already knows the answer.

"You," he answers, voice laced with irritation, leaning away from her in disgust. "Us."

His eyes glance past her at the camera watching them.

"They're looking for us," he reminds her.

"No, Ward," she says, turning back towards the elevator and walking away.

"They're looking for you."

 


End file.
